maybe this isn't mendable.

god.

i can't look away fast enough.
i'm now ready to pack
-my entire life- up.
it should only take a few boxes,
and possibly, a bag,
seeing as i've lost much of what i used to have,

but am i the one really missing out??


maybe i am finally seeing the light,
finally seeing that all along the
wrong was right.
what a mind-blowing, yet calm realization;
what a tedious test of my-
p a t i e n c e.

but we all know a hunchback is no dancing queen.


what if i leave here tomorrow
and arrive
at the place where i'm hoping to come alive
and they all point and laugh,
as naturally as the winter comes
and the world slaps me in the face
for ever expecting to

find freedom!

ready.

even carrie didn't marry until her mid-forties.
what does that mean for the rest of us???

fake letters put together.

breathe.

breathe.

tell me, why do i have such bad dreams?

you're the one that is leaving.

escaping, more like: drowning.

it is painful to see

all these horrible things even when i am asleep!

i couldn't stop shivering.

all the failed attempts had finally caught up with me.

breathe.

breathe.

rid your thoughts of swimming in the tempestuous sea.

if you never come up for air,

you'll lose all the things you've ever found

and you will surely drown.

three more saturdays.

but really, let's talk seriously:
i see everything that falls around me,
and i realize the truth quite easily.
you are not for me.
this shamble of a story should have,
in different ways than one,
exploded in the beginning.
so, how come you've waited until now to light the flame?
now the smoke entices you,
but not because you like it. because you don't know what else to do.
it's not my fish fetish, it's your's.
it's my crazy mind that is either making me dumbly blind
or see things for the very first time.
i'm not sure which is worse.

6th time this week: signs of plummeting.

it's simply my time to go.
i cannot sit here, encumbered with your giddy laughter
and your childish breath of enticing shams.
these are my shaking hands.
this time, our time, is not worth waiting for.

really, it's just an old scary story.

if you can interpret the sayings
of a crazy lady, through the smoke
and stuttered misgivings, she would say this:

mermen don't exist,
and if you stay in caves for too long,
you'll never beam like the sun.

sciatic nerves.

i could have sworn it was winter again
when i saw that evergreen covered in snow.
it was not a dream,
i was awake and breathing,
i know what i saw on that evergreen.
afterwards, i rushed away to pull the covers over my head
and hope the sun would be standing next to me when i
opened my eyes for the very first time.

your hips are uneven
causing your feet to be out of line.
so does that mean i've finally stepped outside the box?
come back,
i fear that we've all let you jump.

mas.

la da da DA da bala da.
run for three hours EVERY SINGLE MORNING
and then come talk to me.
don't lay in my morning bed.
IT WAS ONLY A DREAM! IT WAS ONLY A DREAM!
it was so much more than a dream.
it was so much more.
it was so much.
it was so.
it was. it was.
deliver me good opera music. educate me in it. enhance my brain. cleanse clense.
and i do not like rotating sushi, nor do i think i ever will. crying in the bathroom with the flower painted step-up stool is enough.


i feel like up-chucking.
head butting.
no mas fuck buddies.
crow plucking.
don't ever follow the scent of a beast.

8 days.

what I think is you're
SCREAMING at the top of your lungs
and walking like a monster
just so you can be alone.





R.I.P.